


kibble frustrations

by stardustland (stardustbytes)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustbytes/pseuds/stardustland
Summary: Prowl does not find furniture shopping fun.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	kibble frustrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dontgotone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontgotone/gifts).



> A birthday present from Dontgotone to Ciel! ^^
> 
> Happy birthday!

Prowl was so focused upon the screen he scrolled through that he didn’t notice Jazz watching him from the doorway. Jazz smiled a little as he leaned against the jamb; Prowl frowned, scrolled through the pad again, and swiped some objects away. His doorwings fluttered in irritation as he pursed his lips. Jazz wanted to kiss the frown away.

Jazz finally slipped into the room. “What’s got you so vexed, love?” he nearly sing-songed.

Prowl glanced up, sighing as he put aside the datapad. “Looking for desk chairs.”

“Ah.” Jazz said as he sat on the berth next to Prowl. He shifted the datapad aside so that he could scoot closer to Prowl. "Doorwing problems?"

Prowl nearly pouted. "Always," he replied, resettling so that his partner could tuck in next to him.

Jazz picked up the datapad and leaned into Prowl's side. "Well, it can’t be that bad. Let's take a look."

Another flick of the doorwings. This time Jazz felt it, as close as they were. "Jazz, I've been looking all afternoon. Everything is too high, or the wrong shape, or..."

"Or what?"

"Not a good style," he finished in a grumble.

Jazz chuckled, knowing how Prowl much preferred clean lines to some of the more ornate designs that were currently popular. "What's wrong with the chair you got now, anyway?" he asked, paging through some vendors.

Prowl leaned his helm against Jazz's shoulder as he gazed listlessly at the screen that Jazz now scrolled through. "It's wearing out. It doesn't turn smoothly anymore and the wobbling is distracting."

Jazz hummed. "I could probably fix it," he said.

Prowl pursed his lips as he peered sidelong up at Jazz. "The same way you  _ fixed  _ the coolant on my shuttle?" he said dryly.

That made Jazz laugh — sheepishly. "Alright, alright. But I think a bearing in a chair is a lil' simpler than a coolant manifold in a space shuttle.” 

Prowl shook his head. "You made a coolant manifold in a space shuttle sound pretty simple a few months ago when you sweet-talked me into letting you tinker with it," he remarked.

"Hm... what about this one?" Jazz said, bringing a listing up in a stunningly brilliant redirection move.

Prowl frowned at the screen; apparently he was letting Jazz get away with it today. "I think the back is too high," he said dismissively. After watching Jazz scroll through several more pages, he pushed the datapad down so he couldn’t see it. "I don't want to look at these anymore."

"I think you're too picky," Jazz replied, tweaking Prowl’s chin.

Prowl made a  _ face,  _ one doorwing flicking. "I can't be, I bonded to you."

Jazz gasped in mock hurt, placing one delicate hand over his chestplate. But he couldn’t hold onto the expression for long, laughing as he tossed the datapad aside again and rolled over to pin Prowl against the berth. “Okay, so no more shopping. So now what?” 

Prowl gazed up at him with those blue optics like still waters — but Jazz could see the curling of his lips at the very corners. The touch of warmth that he kept in reserve for Jazz always took his breath away. “You seem to have your own ideas,” he drawled.

Jazz hummed. “I always do.” He shifted his weight again, rolling Prowl over so that he was face down. He tutted. “You got yourself all wound up, love,” he remarked. He traced his hands between Prowl’s doorwings and started to work his fingers under the plating to soothe the tension. 

Prowl rolled his optics at the show Jazz put on, but he started to relax into the berth soon enough. Jazz smiled and got himself settled, systematically working his fingertips under every piece of plating and then into the joints that gave Prowl’s door panels their range of movement. The time it took didn’t matter to him; seeing Prowl loosen up was its own reward. He relished in the feel of a gently pulsing energy field flowing from Prowl’s plating.

After a while, Jazz lifted his hands away. Prowl rolled onto his side and Jazz moved to allow him, laying down to mirror his partner. Their fields started to twine together, sliding in harmony and beginning to pulse at the same rate. “Thank you,” Prowl said softly. 

Jazz smiled as he pillowed his cheek in a palm. Feeling their sparks practically pulse in the same rhythm gave Jazz every bit of comfort he could possibly need. “‘Course. Feel better?” 

“Much.” He flexed his doorwings behind him and returned Jazz’s smile. “How did your recording go, by the way?” 

“Blaster figured out what was causing the feedback last time so today’s recording was much clearer,” Jazz replied. “I’ll play it for you later if you want.”

Prowl hummed and cupped Jazz’s cheek affectionately. “I’d love that,” he said. “But now that you’ve gotten me so relaxed, I’m tempted to nap.” 

This time, Jazz feigned shock. “ _ You? _ Nap? Are you sure you’re feeling well?” 

Prowl lazily slapped Jazz’s shoulder, which just made the other mech laugh more. “Pain in the aft,” he grunted. As grumpy as he sounded, there was no real bite to his tone.

Jazz grabbed Prowl’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m  _ your _ pain in the aft, though,” he teased, twining their fingers together. 

Prowl grunted. “You certainly are,” he remarked. He squeezed their hands as Jazz pulled him close into a proper kiss. He indulged in several more, letting their limbs wind into a near tangle before he leaned back on the pillows of the berth again. “Now, let me sleep.”

Jazz grinned. “Yessir,” he purred. He tucked his helm over Prowl’s and settled in as their fields intermeshed even more. Listening to Prowl’s intakes even out into a long, relaxed rhythm lulled him, too, and he soon shut off his own optics as he let himself be carried away into a content doze on the wave of Prowl’s comforting energy field. At this point, he didn’t think even his dreams could compare to the life they’d built together.


End file.
